Evergreen
by LadyHeatherlly
Summary: This is a Merlin-centric reinterpretation of the late 14th century poem, "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight." Set sometime during an alternate "Golden Age" of Camelot between Series 4 and 5, where magic is freely accepted in the kingdom.
1. Part I: The Challenge

**Title:** Evergreen  
**Category:** Gen (Canon AU)  
**Characters/Pairings:** Gwaine  
**Rating/Warnings:** T  
**Summary:** This is a Merlin-centric reinterpretation of the late 14th century poem, "Sir Gawain and the Green Knight." Set sometime during an alternate "Golden Age" of Camelot between Series 4 and 5, where magic is freely accepted in the kingdom.

**Author's Note:** Includes (as minor characters) other knights that would have been around at this point in the traditional legends.

* * *

**Part I: The Challenge**

"Merlin!" King Arthur called in an ever so slightly demanding voice. "Come entertain us!"

The Court Sorcerer glanced up lazily from his seat between Sir Percival and Sir Kay, the latter of which he was regaling with an amusing tale about the time Arthur had been turned into a donkey. The newly named seneschal was the most recent addition to King Arthur's Court, a warm, constantly smiling man with a wonderful laugh that shook his body from head to heel whenever he found something humorous.

Merlin loved telling these stories... fond recollections that painted the venerated King Arthur as someone more human and fallible for those who looked at him in awe. After all, it was his belief that the imperfections were what made Arthur so worthy of being loved, even though most of the people he ruled would never have the privilege of seeing them firsthand.

Recounting such adventures to Sir Kay, however, was a particular delight. The walls of the cavernous banquet hall echoed with the sound of uproarious laughter as Merlin scrunched up his face into a disgruntled expression and held up a long finger on either side of his head to give the impression of donkey ears.

"Merlin, what are you doing?" Arthur's voice cut across the warm, smoky hall. "I thought I told you to come entertain..."

"I am entertaining, sire. Can't you hear Sir Kay laughing?"

Arthur leaned back in his comfortable chair, then loosened his belt with a sigh of satisfaction as a small army of servants arrived to clear away the remains of the sumptuous New Year's Eve feast. "I'm quite sure all of Camelot can hear him," he said, pausing to stifle a belch. "That isn't the point."

Merlin turned back to Kay with a mischievous grin. "Speaking of belts..."

"Merlin!"

Shaking his head in resignation, Merlin rose to his feet and went to join the glowering king. "Yes, sire?" he questioned, in a voice so solicitous that Arthur searched his face with eyes full of suspicion before he spoke.

"Entertain us, Merlin. I could do with a little amusement."

Merlin smirked back at him. "I believe the title is 'Court Sorcerer', Arthur, not 'Court Jester.'"

"That can easily change," Arthur muttered darkly, though a hint of a smile played around the corner of his lips. "Now come on, why don't you juggle, or make fireworks, or whatever it is you do?"

Merlin grinned. "How about I turn you into a frog?"

"Try it, and I'll have you thrown the stocks. You might not be a servant anymore, but I'm still king. One word from me, and you'll be covered in rotten tomatoes."

"It might be a little hard to give that order when all you can do is croak."

Their conversation was interrupted by a sudden giggle from the other side of Arthur's chair. Queen Guinevere hastily covered her mouth and looked away.

Arthur wasn't fooled. "You think this is funny, do you? Why don't you talk to him then? He actually listens to you."

"That's because I don't order him around," Guinevere replied sweetly.

"I don't order..." Arthur protested, then trailed off as both Merlin and Guinevere let out incredulous snorts. Sir Lancelot choked on a mouthful of ale at a table nearby and Sir Gwaine pounded him heartily on the back, seeming to forget the tankard that was clutched in his other hand as he sloshed his own drink all over the front of Lancelot's tunic.

Merlin watched in amusement as Lancelot hurried from the hall to change into a clean shirt, then turned back to Arthur with a grin. "Really, you need more entertainment than this?"

"Is it entertainment you seek?" a deep voice suddenly thundered through the hall. The wide double doors burst open and a mounted figure stood in the entranceway, surrounded by a heavy cloud of mist that made it impossible to distinguish anything other than a looming black silhouette.

Every pair of eyes flew to the intruder, as dozens of hands dropped to the scabbards at their belts.

"Who are you?" Arthur called in a loud, ringing voice, his watchful eyes never showing even the slightest trace of fear. "What is your purpose here?"

The man, for surely that was what he must have been, shook his head and chuckled. "Call your men off. I mean you no harm. I'm simply here at your request. You asked for entertainment, did you not? Well, I have come to fulfill the great King Arthur's wish."

The crowd watched silently as he dismounted, and then a series of audible gasps filled the hall as he moved beyond the mist and stepped into the light. He was an unusually large man, taller and broader than even Sir Percival, clad in a heavy green cloak that covered him from head to toe.

But that wasn't why he astounded onlookers stared at him in shock.  
He was actually green.

It wasn't just his clothing, or the green leather glove that gripped a holly branch in one huge fist. His craggy face was bright emerald, with a long, thick beard that lay on his chest in both the color and texture of summer moss. Wisps of hair of every possible hue of the shade peeked out from beneath his voluminous hood, and when his mouth relaxed into a smile, his teeth strangely resembled a perfect row of tiny green beans.

"Magic!" someone hissed under their breath, but the word no longer held the heavy edge of suspicion as it once had throughout the kingdom. Instead, there was a distinct hint of wonder in the sound as the man strode forward, then knelt respectfully at Arthur's feet.

"I have come to issue a challenge," he said quietly, the deep timbre of his voice rumbling low in his chest. "A challenge that will reward a very fine prize to anyone who succeeds."

He rose to his feet and reached beneath his cloak, withdrawing a broadsword that glinted brightly in the torch lit hall. The knights moved swiftly forward in anticipation of any threat to their king, but Arthur held up a hand as the man bent down and carefully laid the sword on the floor.

The collective gasp that filled the room was primarily masculine this time, as the eyes of trained warriors and eager young squires stared hungrily at the glittering weapon. The polished silver was flawless and razor-sharp, topped by an intricately carved hilt of some darker metal, from which emeralds and peridots sparkled and winked in a beautiful pattern of leaves and vines.

Not a man among the knights had ever owned a weapon of such quality; only Excalibur itself, forged in the Dragon's breath, could be considered superior.

"What is your challenge?" Arthur said solemnly. "I'm sure any one of our knights would be glad to meet you in honorable combat on the field tomorrow, or we can surely arrange a joust, if that is what you prefer."

The man shook his head with a small laugh. "Oh, I don't think so. Forgive me, but there's not a man among you who could hope to defeat me in a fight."

At these words, there was a low murmur of outrage from the men; it was to Arthur's credit that he was able to silence any evidence of their offended pride with nothing more than a meaningful glance.

"Here's my challenge!" the man called out in a booming voice. "You may strike one blow against me with the sword at my feet. A solitary blow, and you may keep it as your prize! There's just one catch: I ask that you consent to meet me in a year and a day, where you will receive a single blow in return."

The crowd stirred restlessly. Bewildered knights murmured softly to one another, as both Merlin and the king stared at the green cloaked man intently. There was a long silence, and then Arthur cleared his throat and rose to his feet.

"I..." but Guinevere was clutching his arm, pulling him back down in his chair as she hissed a frantic protest.

"I accept!" Gwaine strode forward with a casual smile on his lips, which was in sharp contrast to the hungry look in his eyes as they remained transfixed on the sword on the ground. The challenger gave an approving nod as Gwaine knelt down and lifted the weapon in his hand, testing its sharpness with a look of wonder before he rose with a steady, determined expression.

"Wait!" Arthur commanded, firm and unyielding as he rose from his seat again and stepped forward to stand between the two men. "I am still king here. Nothing happens without my consent, especially if it involves one of my best knights. You must consent to let us have a word with him, and to examine your sword, before you may proceed."

The man bowed respectfully. "One of the most worthy traits a man can possess is loyalty, particularly when he shows obedience to the ruler he has vowed to serve. Please, take your knight and discuss the matter as you will. We'll go no further without your consent, my king."

And then he stepped away, putting a reasonable distance between himself and the small group that had begun to gather around the mysterious sword.

"Well?" Arthur prompted softly, as Merlin turned the weapon over in his hand and examined it with narrowed eyes. "Can you detect an enchantment? Is it dangerous?"

Merlin shook his head as he handed it back. "Nothing that I can sense. Of course, not all spells can be identified just by touching the object, but I'd be able to sense any dark magic, I'm sure of it. There is none."

Arthur frowned. "There has to be some trick. One blow from a sword like this, in the hands of a skilled knight? It would definitely be fatal. And that man," he jerked his head in the direction of the green figure who had helped himself to a tankard of ale. As they watched, he took a long drink and wiped his mouth, smacking his green lips together with a satisfied smile. "Well, he doesn't exactly strike me as someone who wants to die."

"Definitely not," Merlin agreed. "If I had to guess, I'd say there is some enchantment involved. But it's probably a harmless one... maybe the sword will disappear just as Gwaine strikes, or turn into something else?"

"So I don't get to keep it?" Gwaine looked crestfallen.

Arthur sighed heavily. "Well, I guess there's no way of knowing unless you try. But... are you sure you want to do this, Gwaine? He's already said he waits for my permission. I don't have to give it if you don't want me to. Just say the word."

Gwaine pursed his lips thoughtfully. "I don't think he'd be so... respectful if he meant to hurt anyone. And why would he be foolish enough to take a risk like that in a hall full of armed soldiers anyway? Sire, I wish to accept the challenge."

"Very well," Arthur said a little grudgingly. "Good luck, Gwaine."

A few minutes later, Gwaine stared down in consternation at the thick green neck that lay exposed as the man sprawled out across a trestle table, his arms spread wide as he waited for the blow to fall. Never one to hesitate, however, Gwaine sucked in a deep breath and lifted the sword above his head, then brought it down in a swift, forceful motion.

Several onlookers screamed as the severed head flew across the hall, landing with a sickening thud at Guinevere's feet. The queen recoiled, an expression of mingled horror and disgust twisting her lovely features as a pool of deep green blood spread across the floor, staining the hem of her lavender silk gown, while the massive body on the table gave a violent twitch and grew deathly still.

Gwaine stared at the finely jeweled sword still clutched in his hand with eyes full of disbelief. "I didn't think... I didn't mean to kill him."

In response, there was a sudden howl of laughter. Everyone glanced around in bewilderment; the sound of merry amusement was positively jarring as it echoed throughout the solemn room.

"Swing a heavy blade at a man's neck? What did you expect it to do... kiss him?"

Guinevere's gasp was so loud that all eyes flew immediately to their queen, who was staring down at the disembodied head at her feet with one hand covering her mouth, and the other clutching Arthur's arm so tightly that her knuckles had turned white. No one moved so much as a muscle, nor did they speak a single word, as the massive body suddenly hopped down from the table and picked up its own head by a shock of green hair.

The green man spun around to face the crowd, his severed head swinging back and forth in midair like some macabre pendulum as its eyes casually scanned the hall. "Sir Gwaine!" the mouth called out boldly, curving up into an approving grin when the knight stepped forward without hesitation. "Keep your prize! Remember the pact you have agreed to on this night, however; I expect you to meet me in a year and a day to receive a blow in return."

Gwaine bowed his head in acknowledgment. "I am a man of my word. Where can I expect to find you at the appointed time? Will you return to us here?"

The severed head laughed. "Oh, no. I'm afraid this is a task you must face alone. Seek out the Green Chapel when the time comes, and look for the man who dwells within. It is none other than myself you will find when you arrive... and should you have the need to request me by name, I am known as the Green Knight."

"Where can I find this...?"

As swift as an arrow, the Green Knight vaulted onto the back of his massive steed and disappeared into the cloud of swirling mist from whence he'd come, a final howl of laughter emanating from the disembodied head he held proudly aloft as he departed.


	2. Part II: The Journey

**Part II: The Journey**

"Arthur, this is foolish," Guinevere said sternly, glaring up at her husband with eyes full of undisguised irritation. "How can you even think of letting him go?"

Sighing heavily, the king pinched the bridge of his nose, before turning to his wife with a placating smile. "We've been over this, Guinevere. Gwaine made a vow. It is not my place to ask him to compromise his honor."

"But what if something happens to him? What if he doesn't return?"

"Every knight understands what it is to risk his life for a cause. Gwaine is no different. It's his right to..."

Guinevere cut him off. "Arthur, this is hardly a case of him riding out to face a legitimate threat to the kingdom. This is... well, it's just _silly_. This has nothing to do with honor, it's about pride!"

Arthur gave her a meaningful look. "Sometimes the two aren't so different."

The entire court had turned out to see Sir Gwaine off on his journey. Merlin approached him first, allowing himself to be clasped in a warm hug before he made a final plea to come along, or at least to provide some magical protection that might make the quest a little easier.

"Take this amulet," he pleaded for at least the tenth time. "It'll instantly conjure a fire, even if the ground is wet or you can't find any wood."

Gwaine shook his head with an affectionate smile. "There are still _some _things I like to do for myself, Merlin."

The knights came next, one by one, full of teasing remarks and careless jests that didn't quite hide the worry in their eyes. It was contrary to everything they had sworn to and believed in, the idea of sending one of their companions into possible danger without being there to fight at his side.

King Arthur came last, and from him, there was only a respectful nod and a request to, "Be careful, and please send word if you find yourself in need."

And so, with most of Camelot watching his departure and praying for his safety, Gwaine rode out the city gates and into the great unknown.

* * *

"North, it is," Gwaine said under his breath as he held a finger up to test the wind. There was no way to be certain if it was the end of October or the beginning of November after having been on the road for more than a month, particularly when much of that time had been spent in the wilderness.

The solitary knight was still determinedly optimistic, however, despite the biting winds that had become his constant companion, cutting right through the fabric of a cloak that had been designed with far warmer temperatures in mind. Both his rations and the gold to purchase more were dwindling swiftly as hunting became increasingly difficult, but as long as he had at least a little to eat each day, he was still able to continue onward with hope in his heart.

It wasn't merely the wind that told Gwaine he must keep heading north, but an innate instinct as well. For reasons he couldn't begin to understand, the underlying belief remained with him throughout the long weeks of fruitless searching, even after he'd been turned away once, a dozen, and then countless times with shaken heads and quizzical looks.

But as December came upon him, confirmed by a sullen, toothless old woman who had grudgingly shared a bit of bread with him when he'd knocked on the door of her ramshackle cottage, Gwaine began to worry.

He trudged on through snow and sleet that seemed as if it would never end, thoughts of his increasingly hopeless quest soon overshadowed by the simple need to survive. Roots and winter berries provided his only sustenance, and the long, frigid nights were spent huddled close to his bony horse, with no better shelter than a cluster of barren trees or perhaps a small, rocky ravine to protect him from the driving winds.

And then came a particularly brutal day, when Gwaine awakened to discover that his horse was gone. He barely managed to press on until nightfall on foot, frozen to the bone, half starved, and so exhausted he could hardly resist the urge to fall over and close his eyes right there in the snow. It appeared before his disbelieving gaze as the last weak rays of sunlight disappeared beneath the horizon... a cave, its entrance half concealed by a profusion of boulders and hardy brush, beckoning him forward with its promise of sanctuary.

The interior was as black as pitch; although Gwaine felt his way along carefully, the natural clumsiness of his weakened body caused him to stumble over the first obstacle he encountered. He fell heavily to the ground with a grunt of pain as sharp rocks gouged bloody furrows into his knees and palms, but the minor injuries didn't matter. Groping frantically in the darkness, he let out a cry of triumph as his fingers closed around the object that had tripped him.

_Wood_... a thick, sturdy branch of wood.

Lighting a fire was a slow, painstaking process, despite the scattering of dry leaves and grass Gwaine scooped into a neat little pile to serve as tinder. His trembling hands, weak from hunger and numb from the constant cold, fumbled again and again with the flint he'd withdrawn from his pocket and his curses echoed throughout the cave, railing in helpless frustration against the stubbornness that had prevented him from accepting the amulet Merlin had offered for this very purpose.

At last, a tiny flame appeared, gradually growing into a strong, cheery blaze as he carefully stoked it with broken bits of branches, tree bark, whatever he could lay his hands on that would ensure at least a few hours of warmth. He pulled his threadbare cloak tightly around his too thin body, lay down as close to the fire as he dared without taking the risk of scorching himself, and allowed his weary eyes to drift shut.

* * *

The sound was barely detectable in the otherwise silent cave, but Gwaine was a hardened warrior who'd spent years depending on the ability to sense even the slightest threat of danger. His eyes flew open in the darkness; he held his breath and listened intently. There was again, a sort of... _scratching_ noise.

One hand glided noiselessly to the scabbard at his side, withdrawing the blade from its leather sheath with no more than a whisper of sound. Even that smallest of movements caught the attention of the unseen presence, however, and Gwaine felt his heart beating frantically against his rib cage as a hulking shadow separated itself from the wall and moved closer with slow, measured steps.

The dying embers only shed enough light to paint shadowed outlines, offering hope of glimpsing any discernible feature that might help him identify exactly what it was that stalked him in the dead of night.

It was only a few yards away when it must have raised its head; Gwaine let out an audible gasp as two impossibly large, glowing red eyes became visible, narrowing speculatively as they studied him.

"W-What do you want?" Gwaine stammered, his voice hoarse with fear. And then he felt like a fool, for it was obvious that the thing wasn't even human.

He slowly rose to his feet, fully expecting whatever it was to launch an attack at any moment. His sword was raised between them when he finally stood upright, held aloft as a dire warning, and still, the looming presence merely watched him silently... as if he were some curiosity to be figured out, not potential prey.

And then, it did the last thing he would have ever expected; it raised its head and hissed in an eerily human, yet otherworldly voice.

"He issss hhhere..."

Gwaine shrank back against the wall as other noises immediately filled the cave, the shuffling of what must have been dozens of feet, or paws, or whatever they might be, accompanied by those awful, glittering red eyes that became larger and larger as he was quickly surrounded.

Driven beyond rational thought by overwhelming terror, he struck out at the closest shadow.

The sword flew from his hand, knocked away as if it had been nothing more than a child's toy, followed by a series of snuffling noises that sounded suspiciously like laughter to his ears. Gwaine fell to his knees in defeat, picturing the faces of friends he'd never see again as he prepared to meet his end.

Suddenly, a bright flash of light illuminated the cave. The creatures melted away as if they'd never existed, replaced by the welcome sight of a small group of ordinary men clad in heavy furs and clutching lit torches in their gloved fists. One, clad much more richly than the others, separated himself from the rest and hurried to Gwaine's side.

"Are you hurt?"

Gwaine wordlessly shook his head, struggling with the numerous questions buzzing around in his mind before settling upon one at random. "What were those things?"

"Those were the Sceadu," the man responded in a quiet, reassuring voice.

"I didn't even see what they looked like."

The man nodded briefly. "Aye, and you never will. The Sceadu are beings of shadow. You see, the very weapon that conquers them - the _only_ weapon, as it were - also prevents mortal men like ourselves from ever knowing what they truly are."

Gwaine glanced at the torch the man held aloft before he spoke again. "H-how did you find me? I haven't seen another person in at least a week! I was beginning to think..."

"That these lands were deserted? Most would, I imagine. We're about as far north as north goes, it's true, and this is harsh, unforgiving country, as I'm sure you've discovered by now. But there are a few of us, those were born to it, who do quite well up here. But tell me, what is your name? What brings you to this forgotten corner of the world?"

"My name is Gwaine. I come from Camelot, and I..." he trailed off at the sound of gasps and excited muttering from the small group of men who waited near the cave's entrance.

The richly dressed man he'd been conversing with stared at him in disbelief. "_Sir _Gwaine? Famed Knight of Camelot? Surely, it cannot be!"

Gwaine gave an embarrassed chuckle. "You've heard of me?"

"Well, of course! Is there anyone who hasn't? I'm Lord Bertilak, and you... oh, you must think we are a bunch of uncivilized barbarians! Here I am talking your ear off about nonsense, while you're cold and starving by the looks of it, and I haven't even offered you the comfort of my humble hearth. Please, Sir, I beseech you to forgive me, and to accept my shamefully belated offer of hospitality!"

"I, um..." Gwaine had grown accustomed to being treated with a certain amount of deference by the ordinary citizens of Camelot, but _this_... and from a _noble_? "I... there's no need to apologize. I'd be happy to accept a bed for the night, if you have one you can spare."

Lord Bertilak practically beamed with joy as he reached out a hand and helped Gwaine to his feet.

* * *

"Humble" was definitely _not_ how Gwaine would have described the finely appointed castle to which he was whisked away, nor the rich banquet that was laid out before him upon his arrival. He feasted on roasted boar and perfectly seasoned venison steaks, practically groaning in ecstasy as he took huge mouthfuls of a dozen different vegetables swimming in thick creams and sauces. Warm, freshly baked bread with honey butter filled his long empty belly, followed by a dish of apples stewed in exotic spices that he found particularly delightful.

Lord Bertilak looked on indulgently as his guest devoured the meal, not speaking until Gwaine had pushed away his plate and leaned back in his chair with a word of sincere thanks and a deep sigh of satisfaction.

"Truly, there's no need to thank me," Lord Bertilak said, hastily waving away his gratitude. "It is you who honors us by consenting to accept our meager hospitality."

Gwaine surveyed the remains of the sumptuous feast, the impeccable furniture, the richly embroidered tapestries that covered the walls around them, then couldn't help but chuckle. "I don't know if I would call this 'meager', my friend."

Lord Bertilak nodded his head in approval. "Gracious to a fault, just as we've always heard. You are indeed a fine example of a knight and all he is meant to represent, Sir Gwaine."

Rather than destroy his host's lofty assumptions about his character, Gwaine pushed his bewilderment aside and chose to change the subject instead. "You never answered my question earlier, my lord. How did you find me?"

"It was your horse."

"My horse?" Gwaine frowned in confusion. "But I lost him just last night. He broke free, or maybe he was taken. I can't be sure..."

"Taken," Lord Bertilak confirmed with a curt nod. "We caught the ruffians who did it late this afternoon. Knew that a mount of such quality couldn't possibly belong to a group of ragtag, no good bandits. After a bit of questioning, sounded to us like a knight errant was in the area, and if he'd lost his horse, could surely do with a bit of help. It wasn't too difficult to track you from there."

Gwaine nodded. "Well, I'm grateful that you did. And my horse?"

"Safe and warm in my stables, eating his fill of the finest oats I have to offer. He'll be back in shape in no time. And now, might I be permitted to ask you a question in return?"

"Of course."

"What brings you so far north, Sir Gwaine?"

Gwaine sighed heavily, having found it easy to forget his seemingly hopeless quest amidst the warm comforts of Lord Bertilak's castle. "I have an appointment I must keep on New Year's Day," he said quietly. "I have every intention of doing so, having given my word, but I can't seem to locate my destination."

"Well, perhaps I might be of help. No one knows this area better than I do."

"That might be a problem. I have no idea if it's even _in_ this area. I just kept riding north... I'm not even sure why, to tell you the truth. It made sense at the time, but now it seems like foolishness..." Gwaine trailed off and gave a hollow chuckle.

"Tell me anyway. You never know until you ask, after all."

"The Green Chapel," Gwaine muttered, already bracing himself for the lack of recognition he'd received in response the countless other times he'd spoken the words.

But instead, Lord Bertilak's gentle blue eyes practically sparkled with excitement. "The Green Chapel, you say? Why, it's not even a mile from where we're sitting right now!"

Gwaine stared at him in disbelief. "Truly?"

"May the Cailleach take me if I should seek to deceive you. Now please, Sir Gwaine, would you consent to avail yourself of the comforts of my home until then, humble as they may be? We would be honored to have a venerated knight such as yourself share in the remainder of the Yuletide celebrations with us."

_Venerated_? Gwaine blinked in confusion all over again at the man's excessive deference, but somehow, he trusted him despite that rather strange behavior. "I... yes, I happily accept, my lord. Thank you."


	3. Part III: The Testing

**Part III: The Testing**

"Good morning, Sir Gwaine!" Lord Bertilak's cheerful voice boomed across the cavernous hall, as the groggy knight shuffled forward to greet his host. "Come, come! Take a seat and have a bite to eat."

"Thanks," Gwaine mumbled, slightly embarrassed as his stomach produced an audible growl.

The long table was covered in platters heaped with fried sausages, thick slices of ham, crispy strips of bacon, stewed fruit and pickled eggs, several different varieties of breads, cakes, and tarts, serving bowls filled to overflowing with fresh honey butter and preserves... Gwaine sank down in the chair that was offered to him, suddenly faint with hunger as the delicious aromas invaded his senses. He barely had the restraint to make himself wait until Lord Bertilik had filled his own plate, as basic courtesy demanded of a household guest.

Lord Bertilak seemed to sense his feelings, however, as his face broke into a knowing grin. "As much as I admire your impeccable manners, Sir Gwaine, there's no need for such formality when I'm only offering a casual breakfast. Please, help yourself. As it happens, I've already eaten."

A few minutes later, Gwaine was so engrossed in his meal that he didn't notice as two small figures slipped quietly into the hall. It was only when the sound of a soft, feminine voice reached his ears that he looked up in surprise, nearly choking on a mouthful of ham as his eyes fell upon an astonishingly beautiful woman with a thick cascade of bright golden curls.

"Ho there!" Lord Bertilak exclaimed as he pounded Gwaine heartily on the back. "You all right?"

"Y-Yes, thank you. Forgive me, I..."

Lord Bertilak waved a lazy hand, beckoning the pair of women over to the table. "No offense given," he said mildly, smiling as he gave Gwaine a final, friendly pat and moved back to his own seat. "You're far from the first man my Lynna's loveliness has affected in such a manner. I tell her she should refrain from introducing herself at meals for this very reason, but like any self-respecting woman, she disregards my counsel and does exactly as she pleases instead."

There was a definite rolling of eyes as the men chuckled quietly to themselves.

"Lynna, my dear! This is the noble Sir Gwaine I spoke to you about, revered throughout the land as a fearless warrior and faultless example of courtly chivalry. Sir Gwaine, please meet my wife, the Lady Lynna. Next to Queen Guinevere herself, you'll not find a finer example of grace and beauty in all the five kingdoms."

Feeling anything but noble, Gwaine rose to his feet, praying that his face wasn't too red as he leaned over the extended hand and pressed a respectful kiss against the backs of Lynna's delicate fingers. "It's a pleasure to meet you, my lady," he managed somewhat gruffly.

She regarded him solemnly as he gazed down at her, finding himself entranced by a pair of eyes that were as blue and deep as a mountain lake. Her lips moved, but he couldn't seem to make out what they were saying... all he knew was they were plump and enticingly pink, the kind of mouth that just begged to be kissed. He would've done so in a minute if she hadn't been a married woman, and it was that reminder that soon brought him back to his senses.

As Lord Bertilak took his wife's hand and helped her into a chair, Gwaine turned to face the other newcomer. She had been easy to overlook when confronted with Lynna's radiant beauty, an elderly, plain faced woman clad in voluminous robes of simple black wool. Her nose was overly large, and her mouth just a trifle too thin, but her eyes shone with warmth as she patiently endured his scrutiny.

Gwaine glanced at Lord Bertilak in the hopes of an introduction, but the other man was seated close to his wife, clasping one of her small hands between his own as he gazed at her with an expression of utter adoration. The last thing Gwaine wanted to do was interrupt such an intimate moment, so he shrugged and turned back to the stranger before him instead.

"I'm Gwaine," he offered with a friendly smile.

"I deduced that much," she said with a curt nod. "Well, Sir Gwaine, if there's nothing left to say, I'm starving."

If she had been anyone else, he might have pressed her for her own name in return. In this situation, however, respect for an elder and common courtesy dictated that he remain silent. Graciously, he held out his hand to help her into her chair, which she accepted with an expression of surprise.

"What will you do today, my love?" Lady Lynna asked her husband sweetly, as she nibbled on a slice of pear.

"The weather's been relatively mild lately. Thought I'd take the men out for a hunt."

"You're always hunting," she replied, though the words were fond rather than angry or bitter. "Tell me, will you be taking Sir Gwaine with you?"

Lord Bertilak narrowed his eyes thoughtfully. "I expect our guest could use an opportunity to rest after the trials he has suffered. I'm sure he'll be better off here with you to tend to his needs, my dear. What do you think, Sir Gwaine? We would be honored to have you stay here and avail yourself of our humble hospitality."

Gwaine thought to protest, but in truth, he was still both emotionally and physically drained from his long quest. The idea of venturing back out into the cold, even for a pleasurable activity such as hunting, wasn't all that appealing next to the promise of good food and a warm hearth.

"As you say, my lord," he replied amiably.

"That's settled then!" Lord Bertilak proclaimed in a satisfied voice. "And as the two of us are finished with our meal, allow me to escort you back to your chamber. Ladies, if you will excuse us..."

Gwaine obediently followed the other man as he strode purposefully out of the hall, then through a wide corridor and up a flight of steps. They'd almost reached their destination, when Lord Bertilak turned abruptly and studied him speculatively for a moment.

"I regret that you'll have to miss today's enjoyment, Sir Gwaine. Might I suggest a little wager to keep us both entertained during our separation?"

"Of course," Gwaine responded with a great deal of interest. The appeal of betting, whether the stakes were great or small, had always been one of his greatest weaknesses. He couldn't begin to calculate how many gold coins he'd lost at Merlin's skillful hands, nor did he particularly want to.

"I will give you the greatest prize I win today, if you swear to do the same in kind."

Gwaine frowned in confusion. "That's a fine offer, my lord, but I'll just be lingering around the castle. What can I possibly hope to..."

Lord Bertilak held up a hand to stop him. "The greatest treasures can often be found where we least expect them to be hidden. If I am right, this evening should provide a pleasant surprise for us both. If I am wrong, well, you'll have the satisfaction of thinking me a fool."

"I would never assume any such thing," Gwaine said politely.

"Courteous to a fault. I expected nothing less. Very well, Sir Gwaine... do I have your word?"

"Yes."

* * *

Gwaine was dozing peacefully when he was suddenly awakened by the barely audible opening and closing of a door, followed by a patter of light footsteps. Instinctively, he reached for the scabbard that rested against the bedside table, only to quickly withdraw his hand as he recognized the Lady Lynna. She smiled at him as she approached, something coy and mysterious and altogether fascinating playing just behind her fathomless eyes.

Gone was the demure dressing gown she'd worn at breakfast that morning, replaced by a silk gown of the palest lilac that flowed smoothly over a wealth of curves he hadn't been fortunate enough to observe until that moment.

He couldn't think of a single word to utter as she drew nearer, nor was it possible for him to move as she settled herself comfortably on the bed beside him. All he could do was stare, entranced by the swell of her breasts against the thin fabric as she drew in a deep breath and opened her mouth to speak.

"Forgive me for disturbing you," she said softly, as she reached out to straighten the blanket that lay across his hips. "I just came to see if you were well... if you needed anything."

"I-I'm fine," he said after a moment's hesitation, inwardly cursing the way his voice came out harsh and unsteady. "Thank you, but there's no need to trouble yourself on my account."

She shook her head, stunning him into renewed silence as she traced a single finger along the rough stubble that dotted his jaw. "It's no trouble, really. Honestly, there isn't much to do around here, especially during the winter. I'd welcome a bit of pleasant company."

"If you'll allow me to dress, I'd be happy to accompany you down to the main hall," Gwaine offered courteously. "I bring many tales from Camelot that I'm sure you'd enjoy, and..."

"I'm sure I would," she murmured, peeking up at him through a fringe of sinfully thick, dark lashes. "But you need your rest, Sir Gwaine. What kind of host would I be if I forced you out of your bed, for no other reason than my own selfish amusement?"

Gwaine shifted uncomfortably, trying to put a little more distance between them without making it obvious he was doing so. "Surely it's not proper for us to be alone in my chamber like this," he said, attempting to soften the words with a playful grin. "What would your husband say?"

"That isn't important. After all, he won't even return until late this evening, and the servants are all busy at their tasks. No one will ever know that I was here. We can pass the afternoon as we like, with none the wiser."

The invitation in her voice became unmistakable as she leaned closer, her face mere inches from his own. Gwaine closed his eyes and swallowed hard, the sweet, feminine scent of the impossibly lovely woman nearly overpowering any reminder that this was Lord Bertilak's wife, a man who had rescued him and treated him with the utmost kindness.

But no, some things were unmistakably wrong. There was no getting around that, no matter how much he might have wished otherwise.

With that firm conviction, Gwaine took a moment to compose himself, meeting her gaze for the briefest moment just before he tilted his head and planted a whisper of a kiss upon her soft cheek. "I can think of nothing I'd like more than to pass the afternoon in whatever way would please you most, my lady," he said gently. "But as you say, I _do_ need my rest, and I'm afraid I'm far too weary to do anything but sleep. Please forgive me."

Constrained by the dictates of courtesy, Lady Lynna was left with no choice but to graciously accept his excuses. She departed with a smile and a quiet murmur of, "Sweet dreams, Sir Gwaine. Until next time..."

* * *

When Lord Bertilak returned that evening, he immediately presented Gwaine with nearly a dozen fine, fat rabbits. As the men were cold, tired, and famished, there was little chance for conversation until all had gathered around the long trestle tables to anxiously await their meal.

The platters were filled with a variety of breads, cheeses, and winter vegetables, but there wasn't a trace of meat to be seen until the rabbits were brought out from the kitchens, roasted to perfection and still simmering in their own juices. One by one, they were set before Gwaine; no one attempted to reach for the succulent meat despite the numerous hungry gazes that flickered in his direction.

"The prize is yours," Lord Bertilak announced rather grandly. "Do with them as you will."

"Everyone should share in this feast that you've so generously provided. Please, all of you... help yourselves."

Lord Bertilak smiled in approval. "A fine gesture, to be sure. But you should at least claim the best cuts of meat for yourself beforehand, my friend. It is your right, after all."

Gwaine's mouth twisted in amusement as he firmly shook his head. "Let everyone have a serving, and then I will choose from what is left."

Sometime later, after everyone had drank and feasted themselves into a haze of drowsy contentment, Lord Bertilak joined Gwaine by the fire.

"Impressive," he said with a look of deep respect. "Most impressive. But I still have not claimed _my_ prize."

Without a word, Gwaine leaned closer and planted a gentle kiss upon the man's stubbled cheek.

* * *

On the second day, Lord Bertilak and his men had barely departed before Lady Lynna crept into Gwaine's chamber. He was out of bed and fully dressed when she arrived this time, so at least the situation wasn't _quite_ as compromising as it had been on the previous day. Nevertheless, Lynna held a similar power over him as she sauntered forward to join him at the window, her very presence arousing his senses to a fever pitch before she'd even crossed the room. And then, he nearly lost control altogether as she encircled his waist with her arms and pressed herself against him from behind.

"Alone again," she said upon a breathy sigh.

Gwaine pulled himself out of her clutches with the utmost reluctance, trying to make it seem as if he were simply turning around to greet her properly. Facing her didn't help, unfortunately... tendrils of shining gold hair spilled across her bare shoulders, falling to brush across the top of full breasts that were half exposed in the midnight blue gown she wore. Unable to help himself, he groaned aloud.

Lynna frowned. "Is something wrong?"

Spying a sudden opportunity, desperate for any excuse to escape the situation before he ended up doing something he'd deeply regret, Gwaine grabbed at it with the last bit of restraint he still possessed. "I must offer you my deepest apologies, my lady. I'm afraid... well, eating so much rich food after months of near starvation has unsettled me a bit. I'm afraid I'm not feeling very well."

And again, there was nothing for her to do except offer her sympathies and leave him with the sincere wish for a speedy recovery.

"Thank you for being so gracious in light of my failings," he said generously, leaning down to place a kiss on either cheek before he showed her to the door.

They were the very same kisses he bestowed on Lord Bertilak that evening, after the entire household had feasted themselves upon the finest stag Gwaine had ever seen. The stakes were rising... he only hoped that on the morrow, the last day before he was obligated to keep his appointment at the Green Chapel, he'd be able to continue to resist the unbearable temptation of the one prize that was not his to take.

It would not be so easy this time. That much he could tell by the way Lynna's eyes caught his own whenever they drifted in his direction, capturing his attention with a gaze that was so heady, so full of sensual promise, that it was all he could do not to stride across the crowded hall and take her right then and there in front of everyone. The last of his defenses were swiftly melting away... how could he possibly hope to restrain himself the next time they were _alone_?


	4. Part IV: The Outcome

**Part IV: The Outcome**

Gwaine sighed in contentment as the dream intruded upon his senses, warm, gentle, and fragrant. He shifted to his side, instinctively reaching out for...

Well, he didn't know _what_ it was at first, but it was sweet and inviting, enveloping him in blissful feelings which only grew stronger as he wrapped his arms around it and snuggled closer to its welcoming heat. He didn't bother to open his eyes as he buried his face in a mass of what he vaguely recognized as hair... soft tendrils that felt like silk and smelled like roses.

And then it moved. _She_ moved.

Pleasant drowsiness was immediately chased away by the sharp awareness of arousal as a leg wrapped around his own, sliding upward to press suggestively against one hip and urge him closer. She rocked against him slowly, sensuously, making him shiver as she trailed her fingers down his bare back, the tips of her nails dancing along his spine with a touch as light as butterfly's wings.

Gwaine let out a sudden gasp, filled with both longing and dismay. Fully awake now, he opened his eyes to find himself staring into twin pools of the deepest blue, heavy lidded and dark with passion, set in a heart-shaped face that really had no business being even half as alluring as it was. _Oh hell..._

He felt exposed for a moment, sure that his own desire was equally obvious in his desperate scrutiny of her features... then quickly realized how ridiculous the thought was, considering that his very noticeable arousal was pressed firmly against her stomach. And even if he could've deluded himself into believing she'd missed it somehow, the groan that escaped his lips as she reached between their bodies to fumble with the ties of his trousers was unmistakable.

Oh, he wanted to... but he _couldn't_. This was Lord Bertilak's _wife_, damn it, and despite the fact that Gwaine had a reputation for being rather insatiable when it came to women, he'd always prided himself on the fact that he'd never helped himself to the favors of one who was already married. He wasn't about to start now, no matter how tempting it might... all right, he had to get up and put some clothes on. _Immediately_.

"What's wrong?" Lynna questioned with wide, innocent eyes, her golden hair tumbling in a riot of curls over one bare shoulder. She was practically pouting at him with those soft, pink lips of hers, making it ten times harder to turn away from the sight of her in his bed... and the realization that _he_ was the only one standing in the way of what would certainly be hours of exquisite pleasure for them both. Damn him for a noble fool.

"Nothing's wrong," Gwaine said, more brusquely than he intended. He didn't seem to have any control over the tone of his voice. "I just can't... I don't think..."

To his surprise, she laughed. It was a pleasant sound, like tinkling bells in the silent chamber. Unable to help himself, Gwaine turned to give her a curious look, even more baffled to find that she had already risen, pulling a modest robe of deep green velvet around herself as she grinned at him like she didn't have a care in the world. What was this? He'd expected her to be _offended_ by his rejection... why was she _amused_, of all things?

"I must thank you for being so mindful of my virtue," she said kindly, approaching to give him a gentle kiss on either cheek. "Not many men could have withstood my advances, I'm not ashamed to say. Allow me to offer you a token of my gratitude, for proving yourself to be a truly noble man."

And then she removed one of the three wide green ribbons that dangled from the sash of her robe, pressing it into his hand insistently when he attempted to politely refuse. "Please, take it," she said appealingly. "It carries an enchantment which will protect the wearer from all physical harm. There's no telling what you will face on the morrow when you reach the Green Chapel - it will provide me with a great deal of comfort to believe you're safe."

Gwaine nodded wordlessly, then bent down and placed a chaste kiss against the sweet pink lips he still craved far more than he wanted to admit to himself.

And that evening, after the boar that had been his final prize from Lord Bertilak had been feasted upon by the entire household, Gwaine joined his host at the hearth, treating him to a kiss on either cheek, and a respectful peck upon the lips. The other man gazed at him fondly for a moment, then made a bold declaration throughout the crowded hall.

"Sir Gwaine!" he bellowed happily, raising his flagon of mead high in the air. "Unquestionably the most honorable guest I've ever had the privilege of allowing to sleep under my roof. Let us all wish him luck tomorrow as he faces the unknown... I have no doubt that he will venture fearlessly upon whatever path the fates have in store for him."

Gwaine shifted uncomfortably as he thought of the pale green ribbon tucked safely away in his pocket.

* * *

The Green Chapel was a small, ramshackle building made of stone, covered in emerald shaded moss and deep green ivy, neither of which seemed to pay any heed to the freezing temperatures that had covered the rest of the world in a thick blanket of white. Noises could be heard as Gwaine drew hesitantly closer, sharp and rhythmic as they echoed through the silent valley.

And then there was no delaying it any longer. He reached the door and pushed it open, wincing just a little as it let out an audible creak.

The Green Knight didn't acknowledge his presence. Instead, he simply continued the work of sharpening his ax, as Gwaine waited quietly, marveling anew over the strangeness of the other man's appearance. If anything, he seemed larger now, more vibrant in his varying shades of green. His long wisps of variegrated hair were woven into a thick, ropey braid which hung over one shoulder; the exposed skin of his neck was smooth, displaying no scar from the blow Gwaine had struck at his bidding back in Camelot all those months ago.

Finally, the Green Knight rose to his feet, towering over Gwaine as he gestured to a sort of altar at the far end of the room. With a great deal of trepidation, Gwaine understood: it was time to receive the blow he'd agreed to the year before... the bargain which had won him a priceless jeweled sword that he was quite certain now hadn't really been worth it in the first place.

If nothing else, however, Gwaine was and would always be a man of his word. He dropped to his knees and lay his head upon the cold stone, attempting to keep his trembling under control as the shadow loomed over him and raised its mighty ax high in the air.

The massive weapon let out an unearthly whistle as it descended, and unable to help himself, Gwaine let out a gasp of alarm.

Booming laughter filled the tiny chapel as the blade stopped short, only barely touching his unbroken skin.

"A Knight of Camelot," the Green Knight drawled out in a sardonic voice. "Rumored to be the bravest and most steadfast in all the five kingdoms, yet look at you... you shrink like a child at the first hint of danger. What do you think Arthur would say... the king who elevates you and your ilk to the status of living legends whenever he speaks of you? For shame, Sir Gwaine!"

Helpless anger combined with a deep sense of shame battled within Gwaine's heart as he lay his head more firmly upon the stone. "Try again," he managed between gritted teeth. "See if I flinch this time."

"Aha! I don't normally offer second chances, but I suppose I'll make an exception in your case. Just be sure you're ready this time! Wouldn't want you to soil yourself or anything."

Gwaine let out an incomprehensible growl of fury as the ax swished through the air, but true to his word, he remained as still as a statue as he waited for what he was now certain would be a death blow.

It never came.

"Why will you not just _strike_?!" Gwaine spat in frustration. "Bloody hell, if you mean to kill me, just _get it over with_!"

The Green Knight was unperturbed by the outburst. "If your courage had failed you a second time, I obviously needed you alive to mock you for it, don't you think? Don't fault me for your earlier folly. But very well... no need to prolong your anguish. Brace yourself, and I will deliver the blow."

Gwaine closed his eyes and said a final farewell to the world, not bearing witness to the swing this time as the shadow of the mighty ax descended upon his fragile neck.

He felt it though - not a violent severing, but the lightest brush of metal as it ghosted across his skin. And then it was over.

"I thought you were going to kill me," he said almost stupidly, meeting no resistance as he slowly rose to his feet. "That was..."

"A simple game. Nothing more."

"A _game_?" Gwaine swore to himself, reaching for the hilt of his sword as he turned to face his tormentor.

But the man he found waiting behind him, smiling in a way that couldn't be described as anything but kind, wasn't the Green Knight at all. The strange, towering figure dressed in the raiment of a forest was gone, leaving none other than Lord Bertilak standing in his place... Lord Bertilak, Lady Lynna, and the older woman in simple black robes whom Gwaine had helped into her chair at breakfast only a few days before.

He was dumbstruck. "I-I don't understand."

"The king asked for entertainment," Lord Bertilak said simply.

The older woman let out a loud snort. "Asked? Arthur doesn't _ask_ for anything. _Demanded_ is more like it."

"You know Arthur?" Gwaine said dully, finding himself more and more baffled as his eyes darted to each face in turn.

"Oh yes," she said in a voice that bore no resemblance to the tones of a crotchety old woman Gwaine remembered. No, she sounded like...

And then before his disbelieving eyes, she pulled a flask from the pocket of her robe and drained it in one swallow, transforming into the last person he'd ever expected to see in a remote little chapel hundreds of leagues away from Camelot.

Merlin gave him a cheeky grin as he shed the now oversized robes, clearly relishing every second of Gwaine's shocked confusion.

"Y-you were behind this all along?"

"Yes." Merlin looked annoyingly proud of himself.

"I nearly froze to death. I almost starved. I-I thought I was going to die, Merlin! How... what...?"

"You were never in any danger, Gwaine. If your journey was a little more uncomfortable than necessary, you only have yourself to blame for that. If you'll remember, I offered you the means to create instant fire. I tried to give you a sack of supplies that would never run out. You can't blame me for your own stubbornness."

"I can make my own way without magic," Gwaine said stubbornly. "I think I proved that."

It was then that Lady Lynna spoke for the first time. "Well, not entirely. What's that I see peeking out of your pocket, Sir Gwaine?"

Merlin stepped forward, withdrawing the green silk ribbon before Gwaine could stop him. He smiled, seeming oddly pleased by the discovery.

"Look, I thought he was going to kill me," Gwaine sputtered, his cheeks turning red with embarrassment. "I know accepting something that might have afforded me some protection wasn't the bravest thing I've ever done, but I... I just didn't want to die, all right?"

Merlin shook his head, pausing to smile at the others before he spoke. "It might not have been the bravest thing, but it was certainly the smartest. You see, Gwaine, that was the point of this entire adventure. You, Arthur, and all the other knights have accepted my magic, but you still shy away from the help it can give you, as if there's something wrong with having an easier way to make a fire, or an extra shield on your armor. It's as if you believe it will make you weak, or somehow less capable of taking care of yourselves. I wanted to show you that believing that is really... well, _stupid_. But I have to say, I was pleasantly surprised when you accepted the sash. You might not be letting me conjure your supplies yet, but at least you're making progress."

Gwaine frowned at him. "I went through an awful lot of trouble just to receive your little lesson."

"Well, the quest might have been on ordeal... by your own choice, I'll remind you. But can you really complain about the rest? A kind host, great food, a beautiful woman? Surely it wasn't that bad."

"It is when that woman..." and then he trailed off, realizing that both Lord Bertilak and Lady Lynna were listening intently to the exchange. "Yes, it was very lovely."

"When that woman sets her sights on seducing you, yet you can't have her because she's married?"

"_Merlin!_" Gwaine hissed under his breath. To Lord Bertilak, he attempted an innocent smile when he said, "Merlin doesn't know what he's talking about. Your wife didn't do anything of the sort, I assure you."

Lord Bertilak chuckled. "She most certainly did. Like a cat in heat, from what I understand. Fortunately for you, she's not my wife."

Gwaine stared at him, mouth agape. "Then what... why?"

"You see, that was _my_ price for agreeing to go along with Merlin's scheme. Forgive me, but I truly wanted to see if you were as honorable as he's always claimed. I believed that any man would forget all about things like honor and chivalry when faced with sufficient temptation. It seems I was wrong."

"I... you mean to tell me that I rejected the advances of a woman I had no reason _not_ to pursue? A woman as beautiful as _her_? Damn it, out of this whole ordeal, I think that's the worst part of all. My reputation will never recover!"

The other three smirked at Gwaine as he made his dramatic speech. And then Lynna, who wasn't really a lady at all, but a young priestess who'd recently come under Merlin's tutelage, stepped forward and wrapped her arms around the bewildered knight's waist. "I'm willing to help you make up for that, Sir Gwaine... that is, if you're still interested. But I'll understand if you aren't willing to forgive me after what's happened. I _did_ lie to you, after all."

Gwaine gave her a devilish look as he pulled her flush against him. "I'm already over it."

"Brave, noble, chivalrous..." Lord Bertilak said with an air of mock thoughtfulness. "I suppose we can also add 'forgiving' to the list of Sir Gwaine's many virtues."

"Merlin," Gwaine said suddenly. "Does Arthur know the truth? Don't tell me he's been sitting back in Camelot all this time, waiting and worrying over my safety."

"Hey, you weren't the only one who needed to be taught a lesson. In the future, I bet he'll think twice before demanding me to entertain him like I'm some court jester. But you have a point... he's waited long enough. Ready to go home?"

When Gwaine nodded emphatically, Merlin uttered a few words and opened a swirling blue portal just above the altar. "Just step forward, and you'll be back in Camelot in the blink of an eye. Though of course, I'll understand if you want to make the journey on your own without the use of magic. I know you prefer..."

"I think I'll manage," Gwaine said hastily, clinging almost possessively to Lynna's hand as the pair stepped forward and disappeared into the mist.

"You see?" Merlin said sagely, patting Lord Bertilak affectionately on the shoulder as he turned to make his own departure. "He's learning already."

**~ The End ~**


End file.
